


the end [ of the world ]

by birdsandivory



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Future, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Introspection, M/M, Soriku - Freeform, Through the Years, banter and shenanigans, boyfriends sparring, riku is soft, sparring and smooches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 19:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21141647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdsandivory/pseuds/birdsandivory
Summary: “Sora, I just think you should know that I’m happy...” he breathed, “that you never let me out of your sight.”“Hey, you kept me going by keeping me in yours, too.”“Don’t steal my thunder, I’m saying I’m thankful.”“I’m not! I’m saying I’m thankful, too!”“Well, I’m more thankful!”And Sora had looked at him and said that he was evenmorethankful, and Riku swears they laughed until they cried then, holding one another in their arms like too much of a good thing was enough to rip them apart.





	the end [ of the world ]

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! 
> 
> It's been a while, KH fandom, but here's my contribution to the wonderful Cross The Line Zine! I had a really great time participating and I really loved writing this story from the bottom of my heart, so I hope you enjoy reading it, too. Sora and Riku are very important to me and I know they've moved many of us over the years, so much that we've created such an awesome community. Never change, soriku shippers!

***

Everything... was just beginning.

He was so young then, still is, but there’s more darkness beneath his skin than anything out of a child’s nightmares. Riku feels it even now — in the days where war has ended and the havoc wreaked is finally being rebuilt from the ground up. It crawls through his veins thicker than his blood, almost composes all of what he is, and he wears the shadow with pride. It’s a badge of honor, the stripes on his breast are proof he’s overcome it all.

Valiant until the end.

But... it wasn’t always this way.

There were so many far and distant memories that lead him to where he stands, before here and now, before Xehanort and Organization XIII and Maleficent and Kingdom Hearts and fights with himself that he couldn’t stand succumbing to when there was so much to _ lose. _

Before everything.

And they all revolve around— 

_ Sora. _

Riku remembers it like it was yesterday.

Running into the sands of Destiny Islands like a wild child, salt on his tongue the moment he tasted air. The wind in his hair was a comfort and the sunny skies never seemed to end; for a ten year-old, not much was better. And the boy who’d step into the ocean waves without a second thought took hold of his attention like nothing else, plucking it like shells from the grains beneath their feet.

The sea had been the whistleblower that began their innocent friendship; she’d whispered about Sora before he and Riku had even met, spinning tales of wonder though they were too human, and he hadn’t understood until they spoke their first words to each other just what it meant to know a boy who was like sunshine all the time. 

But Riku knows better present day that Sora isn’t_ like _sunshine.

He is the sun.

If he could ask his younger self now what it was like to know the boy back then, he’d have nothing but half-hearted things to say because he was never good with words. It wasn’t until years later that he was able to spew anything other than competitive come-ons and smart-alecky quips, let alone admit that Sora was more special to him than hopes and dreams.

And even _ winning. _

His actions spoke louder than anything, he thinks; the way he coveted Sora’s friendship like lost island treasure was enough to prove just how important he was to him. And he still is, more so than anything, but that isn’t the point he tries to make while reminiscing. 

It never felt like he knew Sora long when he was a child. Everything always happened too fast, the good times spilled from his cup like water and left him a little more than half empty when he’d stumble home after either playing too hard or talking about dreams that were like shoes too big for them to fill at the age they were. Still, he lived for those fleeting moments — how they slipped away before he could take them back was another regret entirely. 

He’ll never forget when all those good times came to an end.

How Sora reached out to him, lips parted and eyes wide, without a single glimpse of betrayal in those deep blues. He’d wanted to touch him then, or maybe he didn’t — there were too many emotions in his heart and they were all indecisive, unsure — but whatever Riku had wanted to do then was a moot point. It was he who chose to walk into the blackest night and welcome it like an old friend even though it was the monster under all of their beds.

The days went dark after that.

Riku doesn’t know why he thinks so much about that moment instead of locking it away like every other horrible thing that’s ever happened to them, but he steadily plays it back over and over like a broken record. It’s a black spot on their history that he swears he never wants to visit again — it wasn’t him, wasn’t the Riku he was before darkness took him — but the person he had become was the beginning of the end, it seemed.

The catalyst for everything.

He’d heard its call like the waves of golden eyes beneath his feet were meant for him. That darkness had stolen everything away, so naturally, having power over it would bring it all back — his home, Kairi, everything.

But Riku ended up losing himself instead. 

And it had felt... good.

Leaving Sora behind wasn’t supposed to feel so good; it wasn’t supposed to be like some self-centered awakening. It should have felt like the worst of it, being separated, alone — unworthy of that bright smile and sky high eyes that looked at him like he was everything he could ever dream of. 

But... it did. 

And though now he regrets it, back then, becoming Sora’s enemy for the sake of something more was a taste of his own untapped power. 

He couldn’t turn his back on it after the very first time he held that blue flame in his hands. And it wasn’t until Hollow Bastion that Riku could even say there was even a little bit of himself left to salvage.

Sora had looked so hurt, facing him in battle with the intent of downing the enemy. At the time, maybe he thought they were fighting towards the same goal in different ways, maybe he had more faith in him than Riku did in himself. Either way, he believes his loss had brought them closer despite the disdain he’d felt in his corrupted heart.

Riku barely remembers the moment he fell — just the wish to go back to the way things were, and just maybe, the feeling of Sora’s fingertips grazing his.

It made him fight for the right to swim toward the surface instead of falling deeper into the abyss.

Moments when he couldn’t hear reason, couldn’t see the damage he was doing — _ couldn’t feel the beating of his heart in his chest when Sora was near _ — they served as reminders with every step he took toward the light.

It’s harder now than back then, to think that falling into the darkness, craving the infinite, was ever the right choice. But it was made and somehow, he can’t see it happening any other way. 

He is the darkness, the darkness is he; Riku had only understood that after he overcame the feeling of emptiness within himself and could barely feel the teeth gnawing at his very core in the days when that era of horror had passed.

And he held that small victory close to his heart until the day he decided they’d meet again; it was many moons later, though maybe his counterpart would never remember the moment Riku came across his sleeping body in clothes too small suspended in a shining brightness.

Finding Sora again had been like finding a piece of himself.

Closed lids that held soft blue eyes fluttered as Sora had dreamt for days on end. In the chamber he was kept in while Namine reawoke his lost memories, he looked almost as peaceful as he had before darkness and heartless and keyblades ever even mattered.

It was a melancholy tune, that silence he watched the other rest in, but it was welcome after the constant buzzing of evil he’d endured in the darkest depths of his mind. Most people lose their heads in the quiet, but Riku thinks that after so much time in the blackest nights, he can thrive without so much as a pin drop. There’s nothing that scares him anymore, nothing that makes him worry other than Sora’s recklessness in itself. But that’s something he believed with all his heart he could stop.

He believes he can stop it.

Riku sifts through the moments he spent gazing at the slumbering keyblade wielder like the pages of an old book; going through them over and over in his mind helps him think. 

Regrets are a good thing, he’s always telling himself, to think back on one’s mistakes helps them become a better person in the end — stronger, more fit to protect. And that’s what he’s always wanted. 

Maybe not back then, though.

He’d walked around the flowering pod wit uncertainty, keeping his heart to himself. Any wrong move would taint the ground he walked on, ruin that quiet, solemn peace that Sora was floating in while he slept and Namine carefully pieced him back to the boy he once was. He didn’t bother waiting for the other to wake up, as it was, didn’t wonder what it would be like to see his eyes open — big and bright and staring up at him with all the happiness in the world.

Instead, he’d taken a few minutes to ponder. 

He thought to ask if Namine could puzzle the moments back together without him, as if Sora would be better off — or maybe just replace them with better ones, holding hands and hushed words and all the things Riku had realized he’s ever wanted before he found that they would never come true.

But that’s not the kind of person he is, no matter how badly he had wanted it.

Riku is the last one who would ever feed Sora lies.

So, as memory serves, he’d stepped away from the pod with a heavy heart, shrugged Namine’s way when she had asked a question he hadn’t bothered to listen to. And when her words all stopped and the sound of pin drops returned, he had lowered his head with a mirthful smile, bid Sora goodnight, and walked away with every intention of seeing him again.

Which, he did. 

_ “I love you.” _

And it had been so painful.

Because how could Sora — after _ everything _ — expect him to accept his love after so long an absence, his descent and rise from darkness, just before facing what they had once thought the pinnacle battle to end all things?

He barely remembers how the other had surged forward, leaving him with memories of a kiss, a _ not even _ brush of lips before they faced off with Xemnas together in The World That Never Was — saving each other to make up for how easily they had been torn apart all those years ago. Even now, he regrets giving Sora those wide eyes and that confused look instead of admitting how much of the dark heart in his chest was already his.

Maybe the anticipation of finding out later on is what helped them win in the first place; there had to be, _ had to be, _ a later on.

It made it sweeter when they sat side by side within the Dark Margin, enveloped in the cold, bitter blackness where Riku felt right at home, and gave their true confessions. Time stood still on that glassy beach, that much they had been grateful for — he and Sora had so much to talk about in that moment, so much to admit.

How he wished they would have nights like that where all they did was tell the other how much they meant without words.

Riku’s younger self would be pleased with how things turned out, because that wish _ had _ come true.

Many times.

Going over everything in his head, of all sweet and bitter things and the in-between, he thinks he remembers most fondly the Mark of Mastery exam.

It was a time where life almost felt normal and the only enemies they truly had were themselves.

Maybe it hadn’t been a break in their journey where they’d been battling, or side by side in the thick of it, but he thinks back endearingly on a day where they’d stood before each other in a chamber in Yen Sid’s vast wings. It was such a mundane instance that it would cross anyone else’s mind as an unimportant flow in the timeline.

Yet, it had meant everything.

_ “Sora, I just think you should know that I’m happy...” he breathed, “that you never let me out of your sight.” _

_ “Hey, you kept me going by keeping me in yours, too.” _

_ “Don’t steal my thunder, I’m saying I’m thankful.” _

_ “I’m not! I’m saying I’m thankful, too!” _

_ “Well, I’m more thankful!” _

And Sora had looked at him and said that he was _ even more thankful, _ and Riku swears they laughed until they cried then, holding one another in their arms like too much of a good thing was enough to rip them apart.

He really was grateful — for everything Sora did.

For not losing his will to go on even as the days flew by after that.

And he’d never lost his selfless spirit either, even when the end was nigh. 

Sora had fought so hard to save them all, crossing worlds all over again; they were a team, no doubt about that. With the addition of Axel and Kairi, they were as ironclad as ever, a platinum force of keyblade wielders ready for anything Xehanort could throw at them.

But... the outcome still rested in Sora’s hands.

He remembers that moment in the Keyblade Graveyard when he’d finally broken, fallen to his knees just before Riku’s heart was lost to the void again. He’d swam in the darkness frantically, hoping to reach the light, hoping to reach Sora before it was too late again. 

In an instant, however, those blue eyes housing the soul he so desperately wanted to save had saved _ him _yet again.

He’d woken in Sora’s arms, eyes barely slits because that boy had a radiance as blinding as a solar flare, soft words spilling from his lips like a mantra and he thought then — lying there — that he’d never be able to forget the other’s feelings like this if every time he spoke was a constant reminder.

It was too bittersweet, going over it, because though they had wanted more than that moment, there was more at stake than just them. There were others to attend to. 

It’s a restless endeavor, saving the world.

But Riku’s glad because he doesn’t think he would have been able to give in to Sora’s gooey love confessions after metaphorically being hit by a truck.

_ “—ku?” _

They’re like a punch in the gut every time.

_ “—iku!” _

He swears, Sora is...

_ “Riku!” _

Verdant eyes blink rapidly as he shakes his head, staring into a pair of fierce oceans before him, a flash of a summoned keyblade catching his attention.

“Hey, Riku, you asleep or somethin’?” A battlecry rings out as the man he’s been thinking about swoops in, jumping up and bringing down a wild slash that Riku has to maneuver around. He summons his own keyblade the second after dodging, swinging it upward just in time to clash with Sora’s own, catching the other’s grin beyond the blade. “You’re slacking!”

That voice brings him to the surface like a rush of cool water even though his playful grin is all sunshine. And when Riku looks at him — really looks at him — it’s hard to believe that baby face belongs to a twenty-something year old savior of worlds.

But he doesn’t have time to linger on those thoughts, not when Sora rushes him right away — reckless and powerful like the strength he asked for when he took up the task of wielding the keyblade. Riku parries the oncoming attacks easily, graceful and sharp in reflex as always, he doesn’t let the other get a hit in now that he’s paying attention.

It’s a true dance.

Dodge. Parry. Slash.

Again.

And they’ve mastered every step.

Sparring is a frequent pastime as of late; not that they weren’t at each other’s throats before, but it’s different, being older.

Being together.

The act isn’t just for the improvement of their skills anymore or for adding a tally to the number of wins they’ve racked up over the years. Every strike and blow is solely for themselves, an unspoken acceptance of how tight knit their bond is after all they’ve been through.

It’s a romantic affair, Riku likes to think, just he and Sora, sparring at the End of the World like they were meant to clash.

And they do clash — in many ways — he regards with amusement.

He loves the way Sora looks when he pauses to regain his composure after a particularly hard hit, rolling his shoulder back and flicking his wrist. Starlight shines in his hold, beautiful and fierce, and it enthralls him to no end knowing that it’s the keyblade the man chooses to spar against him with — something elegant, sleek, wicked powerful. 

And he particularly loves the way the other’s brows pinch, how the right corner of his lips twitch upward when he’s trying to fight seriously, but all else fails.

It makes Riku want to end the charade right there.

So, he does.

He waits for Sora to charge him, running forward and pulling a downward hack and slash over his head, giving him just enough time for a weak parry.

“Agh!” Riku drops his keyblade the moment it’s stricken by a battle-ready wielder, watching as it becomes stardust in the cool air around them. 

Taking the opportunity, he falls back, thankful that Sora is quick enough to drop to his knees beside him and catch him in his arms before he hits the ground.

His reflexes are sometimes questionable.

“Riku!” The cry is familiar, so familiar that he has to blink away the memories like the pinprick of tears. Sora holds him closely, fully aware of the trick the moment he looks up with the ghost of a smile; but he falls into his role perfectly, reaching up to cup the older man’s cheek. “Riku, stay with me!”

“I think this is the end for me,” he rasps out shakily in response, and even _ he’s _ surprised by his acting skills, “let Donald and Goofy know... that they were good friends,” he coughs shakily, “tell Mickey... that I’ll miss him.”

Riku falls back against Sora’s knees when the other drops him unceremoniously, gloved hands moving to grab his face instead, a pout on plush lips.

“Hey, what about _ me? _”

“I was getting there.”

“Oh, okay!” A grin splits his face, “continue.”

Eyes roll at such simplicity, but the show goes on and he hacks loudly, placing a hand over his chest as he pleads, “and tell... Kairi... she was my... best friend—”

“Riku!”

“Why should I mention you? You’re not even trying to fix my wound— ow!” He rubs at his side with a wince, surprised at the power of Sora’s jab to his ribs after the sudden break of character.

“Fixed it,” the man sulks.

“Nah, that ain’t how you do it,” Riku sighs, and before the keyblade wielder can pull away, he leans heavily into the other’s chest, feigning discomfort — though, he can’t keep the act up for long. It’s too easy to smile when he looks at Sora. “Patch me up with that good medicine. Take responsibility.” 

“I’m not giving you a whole potion for this. I don’t have that much munny, you know.”

“Not like _ that. _”

“Then what?”

Riku reaches up with an index finger once he rights himself to tap on his cheek, telling Sora exactly what he wants.

But he gets more than he bargained for when the other throws himself against him, pressing their lips together with a hum, body off balance as if he knows Riku will steady them himself. It’s mere seconds before Sora pulls away and he chases after the keyblade wielder just as the other has chased after him countless times. 

He can feel Sora smiling against his lips at the notion.

“That better?”

“Yeah...” he says, breathless and quiet, looking into endless starry nights, “just what I needed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading — may your heart be your guiding key!


End file.
